


It's Sunday

by knaveofmogadore



Category: The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: M/M, mentions of phantom limb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 22:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16396685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knaveofmogadore/pseuds/knaveofmogadore
Summary: Some stohn fluff to soothe the absence of stohn content in these trying times





	It's Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> aw man this thing is so old Erica and I were still talking when I wrote it after UAO came out

When Nine was little, he used to wake up from dreams reaching for something that wasn’t there. He’d wake up crying and someone would pick him up to hold him, or pull him close, giving him something to reach for. With Sandor, Nine would lash out at invisible enemies when he was woken up. His fist would strike out at something that wasn’t there. Now, when the alarm shrieks for him to get up before his students, Nine reaches to silence it with something that’s no longer there.

It always takes him a minute to process that he wasn’t moving his arm, that there wasn’t an arm to move. His stump would twitch and his shoulder would roll, but no hand would come into his line of blurry vision. Nine would suck in a breath, panic for a moment, and then drag himself out of bed to face the day. Except today, because with a warm body pressed against his back and the soft snores filling the room, Nine didn’t want to move at all.  
Nine gave up altogether and relaxed into the sheets when a tanned arm snuck past him and smacked the alarm clock silent. He sighed and let all the tension flow away as Four wrapped his arm around his waist. He squirmed and snorted when Four's breath ghosted across the back of his neck. Nine could feel Four's smile as he pressed a kiss against his nape.

“Johnny I need to get up!” Nine protested weakly.

Four shook his head, “Hmmn, no you don't. It's Sunday.”

Nine's brow furrowed, and his bleary eyes blinked up at the calendar on the wall. Then he grunted and rolled over, pressing his face into Four's chest and tangling their legs together. 

“So it is.”


End file.
